To Love What's Found
by sharky-clarky
Summary: Sequel to 'To Love What's Lost.' People say you can only have one true love in your lifetime, and that is true, for some. But even Hermione Granger can break the rules sometimes. A Story of how two lost, grieving hero's of war found each other after so many years. Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

**So some people said they wanted the sequel to Fred's story so here is Hermione and Draco's, another love story that no one expected in the wizarding world. **

**before reading this you may want to read my other story To Love What's Lost, just in case there are things you don't understand. **

**Please review!**

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**May 2****nd ****2000**

It was time again; time to face the darkness, the way he was forced to every single night.

_Who was it this time_, Draco thought as he fell into the fitful sleep he was forced to endure every night. It was usually the same, only a few, minute, yet catastrophic differences between the dreams that plagued him. Who would it be tonight?

He was in the drawing room of the Malfoy Manor, the very room her refused to enter, even two years after the war. Some things just can be unseen.

The sky shone a dusky purple through the windows, casting patches of ghostly light across the cold, white marbled floor. The high windows were all barred, nothing was getting in, but more importantly, he wasn't getting out.

Despite his previous experiences, Draco tried pulling the door, fighting pointlessly with the strong wood for a means of escape. The room for a silent for only a few moments until the singing began.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Draco's cold grey eyes fell on a girl. That's all she was, a girl around 4 or 5 years old, her soft, curly brown hair pulled into a high pony tail and tied with a green ribbon to match her green dress, her blue eyes glistened as she span and twirled, her skirts flapping with her movements.

_Rose-marie. _He thought, looking at the younger model of his sister as she frolicked across the room, her bright, sunny voice still failing to brighten the room.

The girl continued to dance, and as she did, she changed. Her hair fell from its pony tail, wafting around her shoulders like a chocolate wave, she grew taller, her blue eyes filling with the knowledge and wisdom she had obtained through out her short years. Before long, Rose-marie was how Draco remembered her, a beautiful 19 year old girl. She wore a long red dress with golden embroidery, the dress she wore to the Yule ball, her feet were bare as she stepped tentatively forwards, and no matter how ferociously Draco tried to get away, she was soon trapped in the circle of his arms as they danced.

There was no music, at least none that Draco could hear, yet Rose-marie hummed along, her eyes shut, her smile content as she allowed Draco to spin and twirl her around the room.

_Do it, Draco. _Hissed a horribly familiar voice in his ear. He couldn't see the voices owner, and despite the familiarity he couldn't place it either. So he ignored the voice, continuing to dance with Rose-marie the way he had always wanted too. She was so beautiful; her sky blue eyes stared up at him, the watery depths filled with happiness and love, the way he dreamed she would look at him.

_Draco, _the voice hissed again, _Do it. _if he had understood what the voice was asking of him, he would have woken up that second, but just like every other night, he didn't know, not his dream self at least. _Hurry. _It sneered again.

"Draco?" Rose-marie's voice was soft, concerned, as she looked questioningly up at Draco, her blue eyes worried for the teenage boy who held her. "What is it?"

"I have to do it" his dream self said, his grey eyes terrified as he looked down upon the beautiful girl with the soft, pale face. "I have to kill you" he said, a sob breaking through his words. She gently placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb rubbing a soothing pattern across his high cheekbones.

"I know" she replied, her eyes beginning to water as she looked up at him, tiny tears slipping through her thick lashes when she blinked.

"But I don't want to" he said eagerly, leaning further into her touch, terrified that at any moment she might slip away. _Almost there, Draco. Do it! _The voice was sounding more and more eager as the seconds crashed on.

"I know" she said again, smiling up at him with her teary blue eyes. He reached for her face, but she was suddenly out of reach. He could still see her clear as day, as though she was right before him, but still she was out of his reach. "I understand" a thin line of crimson liquid began to trickle from her pink lips, rolling down her white skin to splash on what was once a red dress, but was now a white vest.

Her body crumpled then, falling from his arms, leaving her lying on her back, her brown hair splayed around her head like a halo as the red slashes appeared on her skin, three deep wounds pouring blood on her stomach and chest, tiny, but far from insignificant cuts appearing on her arms, legs and throat, each one bleed copiously.

"Rose-marie!" he shouted, lunging for her, this time the dream let him through. He fell to the floor beside her, lifting her head slowly onto his lap. He didn't speak, he didn't get a chance, and her eyelids were already fluttering, the life draining slowly out of her body like water down a plug.

She gave one last gasp, one last word and her body fell limp in his arms.

_Well done, Draco. _The voice said, softer than before. Draco looked down, to where Rose-marie lay in his lap. Both of his hands were drenched in blood, his left clinging exceptionally tight to his wand, the knuckles white. A figure began to waltz out of the darkness, a woman, wearing a long black dress, her hair a bird nest of black curls that was as oily as Severus Snape's used to be.

She was smiling, black teeth winking out from behind the white; the blade in the woman's hand was glistening, fat red drops falling from the tip as she twirling into between her thin, almost skeletal fingers, a feral look in her eyes. _We are so very proud of you._

He sat upright in his bed, the grey sheets a tangle around his long legs. He was breathing heavily, his breaths coming out in heavy pants, each one making a wheezing sound like air from a balloon. Sweat sheathed his body like a second skin but he felt colder than he had before.

His eyes stared forward, images flickering across his vision. _Rose-marie _he thought, images of the blue eyed girl falling over his eyes, memories of their childhood together filling his mind, the image of her bleeding out on the floor repeated over and over again.

"Draco" said a voice from behind the door. "Draco, are you awake?" he would recognise his mothers voice any where. He knew if he didn't reply she would just walk in, the way she had accustomed herself to doing, but he couldn't speak, his mouth was as dry as sand, his throat sore and hoarse.

Sure enough, the door opened, revealing Draco's mother, Narcissa. She was tall and slim, a lot slimmer than she had been when Draco was still in school; her long blonde hair was tied back in a strict bun, her blue eyes so much warmer than they used to be as she looked upon her distraught son.

"Oh, my boy" she said, walking elegantly towards Draco's bed, he didn't protest when she sat on the covers beside him, nor did he complain when she wrapped her slim arms around his shoulders, holding like the innocent child he never was.

The war had changed people, some simply decided they wanted to continue education should another war break out, others decided to be muggles and escape the turmoil. Narcissa however, she changed her entire way of life. She had left her husband, telling Draco he could stay or go and be loved either way, she had gotten herself her own job at the Ministry of Magic and still held a small fortune from the Black family vaults, a fortune she shared with her only remaining sister, Andromeda after reuniting.

War did strange things to people, that was for sure. Narcissa Malfoy had disowned her sister due to the blood traitor title she had been placed under, yet after the war they managed to rekindle old family connections. It seemed both of the sisters had lost the same thing to the war, a husband and a daughter.

"Its okay, Draco" Narcissa shushed, rocking Draco slightly as he tried effortlessly to rid his mind of the horrific images flashing.

"Can I go in?" Draco asked and Narcissa stopped immediately, her grip on her now only child tightening.

"I'm not sure today is the day for that, my son" she said softly, her cold voice replaced by the soft, motherly tone that Draco was still growing accustomed to.

"I want to go in" he pressed, pulling himself from his mothers comforting grip, despite the sanctuary he found there. Narcissa didn't reply, she nodded, standing up and holding out her hand for her son. He took I gratefully, pulling himself to his feet.

Together they walked in silence, the portraits in the Malfoy Manor ogling them curiously as they walked down corridors and up staircases, echoes of lost screams still trapped within its walls. Narcissa had been lucky to be freed by the ministry, claiming that she had saved Harry (which she had) and that her and her son had no true dealings with that of the deatheaters. They were released without charge, Lucius, however, was currently locked in Azkaban Prison, the very place he deserved in both Narcissa and Draco's eyes.

They finally stopped before a door. It was a plain door, much like the others in the manor, nothing but pristine white wood. Narcissa gave a pleading look to her son, one he graciously ignored. With a sigh, Narcissa reached inside the pocket of her robe, withdrawing from it her sleek, black wand. She tapped in once on the door knob, small orange sparks flittering around the metal for a second before they vanished.

Draco entered first, his strides purposeful as he entered the room he'd been too afraid to enter until now. It was a simple room, much how Draco had expected it to be. When Draco had turned eleven was the last time he had entered this room, the day he got his Hogwarts letter. He'd come in jumping and screaming, enveloped into a bone crushing hug by his older sister.

Back then it was a simple room, white walls, a white bed with soft, pink covers and throw pillows. There was an empty book case back then, and simple white furniture with a simple, pink rug. How the years had changed.

The walls were now a pale grey, with the ceiling remaining white. The carpet was a soft, calming cream colour with a large, purple rug. Around the top corners of the room hung chains of fairy lights that remained lifeless, leaving the room dark. Despite the dust, Draco could still make out the double bed against the back wall of the room and the thick grey curtains that hung from the ceiling of the long window.

There was a click and the room was suddenly illuminated with a flurry of colour. Every fairy light sprang into life instantly, spotting the room with soft, beautiful colours. Now the room was lit Draco knew why his mother was so adamant to allowing him inside.

Everything was hers, everything looked like hers and the room even still smelt like her, the soft, vanilla scent that wafted after her, even after being inactive for two years. There was a desk against one wall, parchment and ink pots sprawled across the surface. The wardrobe was open, the hangers bare from when she had left, the drawers still remained closed. The bookcase by the window was fit to bursting, a thin veil of dust separating Draco from knowing the books titles.

There were at least three shelves filled with the muggle CD's that Draco knew she had always enjoyed, records were even stuck to the walls with what he assumed to be permanent sticking charms. Beside the bed sat an empty cage, the one he knew once housed Amata, her owl.

What caught Draco's eye last was the collage of papers stuck to the wall above her bed. The bed itself took up one third of the wall, any other space was occupied by pieces of parchment with fading ink, pictures that moved happily or even trivial things such as a knight bus ticket.

Reaching a pale hand forward, she uncurled the corner of a photograph to reveal the picture. There she was, smiling away, her blue eyes glistening in the firelight. In the picture was another girl, a girl with long, fiery hair and brown eyes. They were sat in what Draco assumed to be a living room. It was shabby and looked very unstable with a low hanging roof and patchwork sofas, but it still looked cosy. The two girls were sat on the sofa, giggling at something until they finally spied the camera, their faces turning hot with rage. Draco would recognise Ginny Weasley anywhere.

Tugging a piece of parchment from the wall, no concern for anyone's privacy, Draco began to read.

_I hope you have a lovely birthday, dear, and I hope your gift arrives on time. _

_We look forward to seeing you at the wedding, but until then, best of wishes from all of us and we hope you enjoy your birthday. _

_Lot__'__s of love_

_Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, George, Ron and Ginny Weasley. _

The ink was slowly fading, but Draco could see where each of the Weasley's had signed there own name, Ginny with neat curving letter, Ron's a complete scrawl. It struck him with a pang of betrayal that this letter must have been just before she left home. Draco spent the rest of his day inside that room, not noticing when his mother left, or when house elves supplied him with food. Instead he sat on the edge of her bed, flicking through photographs of the smiling girl with her friends, and many of her with one of the Weasley's, the twin (he didn't know his name) and reading letters and notes that she had left behind. It struck Draco then how much more other people knew about this girl than he did, how much more there was to her.

She wasn't the perfect, Slytherin princess his father had wanted, maybe that's why he had hated her. She was strong, and beautiful. She knew what she wanted but never knew what she deserved, and she deserved the world, something Draco would all too willingly give to her. Her talent was immeasurable, both with magic and without. Draco could remember the times he had heard the piano in the dead of night, a beautifully soft voice tinkling along with the delicate playing of the keys.

He missed those moments now more than ever. The house was cold and silent without her music, it was eerie to be in her room, but Draco needed to feel close to her again, just once more.

When Draco finally left the room he left with a promise, he was going to make a story heard. People would remember her, they would remember her for who she was, the hero she became. More not a single experience left out, not a single bridge was to remain burned. Today was the day Draco Malfoy was going to finally grow up, today was the day Draco Malfoy was going to avenge her. Rose-marie had always loved stories, now Draco was going to make her the greatest story of all time.

He turned the lights off in the room, gathering as many photographs and letters as he could before locking the door once again. Before he descended the narrow staircase that led to her room, he pulled his wand from his pocket, struggling slightly to simultaneously hold the box of papers and cast a spell. He left a note, nothing fancy, but it said what needed to be said and hadn't. He slowly descended the stairs, making his way back to his own room. The glowing letters on the wooden door still growing from where they were burned into the wood.

_Forever_

_Rose-marie Greengrass_

_The music to our silent world._

**June 2016**

"Mum, you really don't have to come with me, I'll be fine on my own" said the man as he pulled off his white healers robes, switching it for a black blazer. His mother stood opposite him, her blonde hair faded to a light, silvery grey, her blue eyes kinder than they were all those years ago.

"Draco, honestly" she breathed out, her hands clasped sophisticatedly in front of her. She wore long robes in a midnight blue colour, her hair falling past her shoulders. "Is it so horrible for me to want to see my own grandson" she said with a slight sneer, the remaining influence that his father had left.

"You can see him" Draco said, pocketing his wand and reaching for the door handle "When I get home" he replied with a cheeky smirk, and then he was gone, walking down the pebbled driveway towards the nearest apparition point.

The summer's sun was drooping slowly beneath the hills on the horizon, the sky glowing with pinks and oranges above the blue. How many times had he walked this road, how many times had he gazed at the sun as it dropped beneath the horizon?

There was something magical about a sunset; the way day and night collided in an explosion of colours, far too vivid for this harsh world. She used to sit with him to watch the sunset.

It was true that after the war, the Malfoy's had, in a way, retreated in on themselves. Lucius had been locked away in Azkaban; dementor's feeding on his soul, only for him to die unexpectedly four years later. Narcissa hadn't mourned, she must have cared, she wasn't that cold, but she never mourned for the husband she cast out.

Draco didn't either, he watched emotionless as they lowered the empty shell that was his father's body into the ground, not shedding a single tear for the man he knew as his father, nor did he stay at the Malfoy family plot for too long. Instead his legs carried him to another set of graves, two tombstones side by side.

_Michael Greengrass, born 11 December 1959, died 23 September 1981_

_Beloved Son, Husband, Father, Friend_

_Holly Greengrass, born 29 may 1960, died 23 September 1981_

_Beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother, Friend_

_For those who fell in the first Wizarding War, we raise our wands, you saved us all_

_'__A man who will not die for something is not fit to live'_

His eyes skimmed past the first one, covered with moss and grime with age, and instead fell on the second one.

_Rose-marie Greengrass, born 14 April 1979, died 2 May 1998_

_Beloved Daughter, Fiancée, Sister, Friend_

_For those who fell in the second Wizarding War, we raise our wands, you saved us all_

_Do not fear death, fear a life unlived_

He remembered sitting, or rather collapsing, on the damp earth, his finger nails biting into the ground as he stared at the grey stone. She had said those words before, only once, when Draco learnt the true nature of her parentage, he had asked if she feared death, and that was her brief, soulful reply. Looking at it reminded him of all the things he missed out on with her life, her engagement, her first step into a whole new life. A life without him.

It did her no justice, the words etched onto her grave, was that how she would be remembered? As the girl who didn't live her life, who didn't have the time to live her life. Did people pass her grave every day, never stopping to pay respects, only ignoring the loss of a witch who was taken too soon? Or did they stop and glance at the words, murmuring about unfortunate events before they forgot all over again. Never even realising how she had save their lives, or how she had given her own life to make the world a safer and more magical place.

Draco had of course pleaded for Rose-marie to be buried in the Malfoy family plot, his mother had refused. Not out of spite or betrayal, Narcissa had love Rose-marie like her own child. She had instead suggested Rose-marie be buried with her own family, for she never knew the beautiful people her parents were, and they never knew the hero their daughter had become.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Draco had conjured a reef of flowers, blue roses, the colours of her eyes, before apparating back to the village near his home, the very spot he had reached now.

Draco was in London instantly, his back hit the hard, cool wall of an alley before his vision had returned. Walking to the station was a quick, insignificant affair, the alley to which he had apparated was the one opposite the stations entrance, so that led to little walking.

Walking through the barrier was always Draco's favourite part of leaving for Hogwarts, back when his innocence was unperturbed. The feeling of rippling and leaving the muggle world behind was a thrill he could never get tired of. Sadly it had now lost its thrill.

The platform was filled with people, all of them standing around, leaning against walls, holding the hands of small children as they waiting for the bright red train. There were multiple smiles and even some wave's aimed at Draco from the people he realised to be his previous classmates as they awaited the next generation to return.

"Hello, Draco" said a voice Draco in no way remembered. He turned his head slightly, his curious grey eyes meeting a pair of soft, brown ones.

"Hello" he said with a smile.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" said the man next to the woman who spoke first, his green eyes smiling at Draco in a way they never had before. Draco had made a pact to himself to build as many bridges as he could after the war, the first one starting with Harry Potter. The two of them weren't close, infact they didn't speak to each other for the soul point that they had no reason to. Draco was a healer, Harry was and auror, they didn't cross paths often unless it was an emergency.

"It sure has" he said back with a curt nod in the boy who lived direction. Much like with himself, time had been kind to Harry. His hair was still as mussed and black as ever, covering his scar, but there were single grey hairs noticeable through the mass, and his green eyes bore enough wisdom beneath those glasses to rival the oldest of wizards. He wore a simple attire, blue jeans and a grey shirt with a blue tie; he never did worry much about his appearance.

Ginny was just as fortunate as her husband, her hair was still fiery red, not a grey hair in sight, and her face was still soft and wrinkle free, but her brown eyes were as tired as Harry's, just as well lived. A pang of grief struck him, she should be here too, and she should be picking up her own child. How he longed to see her now, holding the hand of a small brunette girl with sapphire blue eyes, even if she was waiting for a red headed child to exit the train. This is what she deserved, what she'd always deserved.

"Mummy" said a quiet voice from beside Ginny. Glancing down, Draco saw a small girl who looked no older than 8 years old, tugging rather strongly at the bottom of her mothers blouse. "Is he back yet?" she asked impatiently, her brown eyes exactly like her mothers, her red hair pulled into two pigtails.

"No, Lily" Ginny said calmly "But he will be soon" the little girl huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Lily!" shouted another voice, and Draco watched as from across the platform a boy who looked to be only a little too young to attend Hogwarts came bolting down the concrete, carrying something that looked awfully like a firework in his hands. "Lily, look at this!" the little girl flew at the boy, observing the glittering mass between his fingers with a bold interest.

"Where'd you get it?" she asked bemused as the bundle of blue sparks continued to whistle and steam in the boys hands. The boy had an unruly mass of black hair and bright green eyes that shone with pride as he watched the little girl poke her slender fingers towards the bundle of sparks.

"Yours as well" Draco said with a smile, more a statement than a question, but Ginny still smiled proudly and Draco was sure he saw Harry smirk.

"What gave it away" Ginny said with an amused sigh, watching as Harry became suddenly as immersed in the prickling fire as his two children were. "He's still such a child" Ginny said with a tired laugh, her eyes watching her husband and two children play with the fireworks. She heard Harry ask where Albus had found it, and heard a name that she should well have expected.

"Uncle George gave it to me!" Albus boasted "He's showing Roxy before Ron gets back" Draco short a quick look at Ginny, watching as her eyes softened, Harry's face falling slightly at the name.

"George's son" she said sadly "He's in his fourth year" Accepting this, Draco nodded. "Did you see Uncle Fred?" Ginny asked, trying to change the topic from Ron for everyone's sakes. The Weasley's were a tight-knit family, if one of them died, a part of the others died with them, and that would never change. The same could now be said for the Malfoy's, the loss of one child had changed their entire outlook on life, turned all their previous prejudices on their heads.

"No" Albus pouted as he handed the firework to his father "George say's he'll be here soon though" he finished, brightening up slightly before returning to the fireworks. Ginny sighed, clearly frustrated with her elder brothers lack of punctuality.

"The train's not due for ten minutes, Gin" Harry said, watching happily as his children played with the sparks "Give them another nine and they'll be here" he said with a cheeky smile, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"I guess you're right" she replied with a quiet giggle. "Who are you waiting for, Draco?" she asked, realising she had paid little to no attention to how he was doing.

"My son" he said with a faint smile. "It's his first year" Ginny smiled back at him before being tugged, none too gently by the arm.

"Albus!" she exclaimed as the little boy dragged her away, Lily already pulling Harry across the platform. "Nice speaking to you, Draco" she said with a wave, seeing how ineffective her attempts to resist were. He gave a kind smile and a wave before returning to waiting for the train to arrive.

It was approximately seven minutes later that Draco felt a light tap on his shoulder. Having removed his blazer jacket, he could feel the warmth of the person's hands through the thin fabric of his shirt. Looking around his grey eyes once again met brown, only this time, a flood of memories joined in.

The dreams hit him first, the amount of times he's seen her dancing elegantly in her periwinkle dress, her hair in an elegant knot, her eyes shining up at him as he held her safely within the circle of his arms. That image always dissolved the quickest, he would hear the voice in his ear and then she would be screaming, her slim body writhing on the floor, her back arching as she screamed out for Ron, or for Harry, or for her parents. And then the word would appear, red and blossoming on her arm before the letters dribbled across her skin, the blade clutched in Draco's hands as he held her.

They were always the same, one girl or the other; he dreaded the day they came at once. To kill and to torture, the two things Draco could not, and would not ever do. They were inhuman, and the thought of doing them to the two girls he- no, now wasn't the time to dig up old feelings.

"I thought it was you" she said with a sad smile. She wore a plain white dress beneath a navy blue blazer, the sleeves rolled down to cover her arm. Her shoes were sensible, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in chocolate ringlets. It was clear, despite the makeup she wore that she had been crying. Draco dealt with grief and turmoil enough being a healer to know when someone tried to hide their red cheeks and puffy eyes.

"It's me" he said with a disbelieving smiling "It's good to see you, Hermione" she smiled shyly at him, looking suddenly like a teenage girl again, and not the thirty-eight year old woman she was.

This was one of the only bridges Draco was yet to build. The opportunity had arisen of course, but Draco's courage had failed him. There was too much history between him and Miss Granger, some she didn't even know about.

"Would you like to come over" she said with a smile, holding out her hand towards the red-headed man who was leant against the wall, observing a pigeon, a confused look on his face, another person Draco had failed to build a bridge with due to the soul reason that he loved his sister more than he did himself, something Draco never anted to admit about a Weasley.

Draco pulled a dubious face, opening his mouth to reply, only to be cut off. "No arguments" she said with a smile "You're coming over" and that was how he ended up stood in a circle of people a few minutes later, Hermione's daughter chatting away joyfully, his own son by his side.

He snuck glances at Hermione, watching amused as Scorpius praised Fred for his shop. It was rather intimidating how much Hermione had grown up, the age barely showed on her face, yet her eyes were so clouded, so sad, that Draco had to know more about her. It was also rather eerie how much Rose looked like Hermione when she was in fifth year. Her hair was frizzy and all over the place, the colour of milk chocolate, just like her mother. Yet her eyes were bright and alive, the brightest of sapphire blue, just like her fathers.

"You come by the shop anytime" Fred said with a smile to the little boy from where he sat, squatting to be his sons height.

"Merlin's beard" Draco breathed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Don't encourage him" he heard Hermione give a quiet giggle and tried to suppress the pride that swelled inside him like a Balloon. "Well, Scorpius" Draco said, placing a hand on his son's head, ruffling the platinum blonde locks "We'd better be going. Say goodbye"

And so the goodbyes began. First came Fred, whom Draco shook hands with in a familiar, almost friendly way, next was a polite nod towards Hermione's daughter, Rose. Finally came Hermione.

Draco had intended to go for a handshake, friendly and familiar, just like with Fred. This however changed the second her warm hand was slotted within his own. Without realising, his face was next to her ear, the frizz of her hair tickling his cool cheek.

"Owl me" was all he said, giving her a quick, sweet kiss on the cheek before pulling away, revelling in the blush he left on her face, before turning and walking back towards the barrier, his confused looking son in tow.

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**So please let me know what you think with a review!**

**And also feel free to PM me with any suggestions as to the plot since I'm not 100% sure...**

**hope you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is more of a filler chapter but it's got some humour in it and some relationship building. **

**Please review :)**

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"Just owl him" the red headed man said from his spot on the sofa, his head in his hands as he listened to the disgruntled brunette as she paced before where he sat on the sofa, his hair mussed, clothing casual.

"Why would I owl him?" she replied sharply, her chocolate eyes meeting his blue in a way that showed how mortified she was with his comment. "What would even put that idea into your head?" she demanded her hands on her hips.

It was two weeks into the summer holidays now and Rose had long since gone to bed, yet Fred was trapped in the living room of their three bedroomed flat listening to Hermione rant and rave. Glancing at the wall clock, Fred saw the time read _02:13 _

"For the love of Merlin, Hermione" he said with a sigh "If you don't want to owl him, and you're really that adamant about it all, then why on earth are you so affected by this?" he asked, trying his best to gauge the reaction out of her so he could finally get some sleep. It may be a break off work for her, but Fred still had to open the shop in just under five hours.

"He's just so arrogant, and pompous. He's an arrogant, pompous, foul little ferret boy. Appearing out of nowhere and telling me to owl him! Who does he think he is! After everything he put me through!" she continued to rant on, her hands flailing widely with every point she made.

"In his defence" Fred began, earning him a venomous look from Hermione. "You spoke to him first"

"That was to be polite!" she stammered out, her face turning an amusing shade of red the angrier she got. "I had no intention of reconnecting with the very same boy who made my life at school hell on a regular basis with his prejudice and his snide comments."

"Might I also add-" Fred began again, only for Hermione to cut him off, not at all politely.

"No you may not!" she said, holding up a hand to silence him.

"He's not a boy anymore" he continued, ignoring her refusal of taking the subject further. "If it bothers you this much" he continued, watching as the old Gryffindor ran her slim fingers through her chocolate hair, tugging slightly from where it snagged in knots. "Why not owl him saying you don't want to be friends?"

"You know what?" Hermione said, stopping mid pace, her eyes staring at nothing. "I might just do that" and with a smile she disappeared into her room, leaving an amused yet confused looking Fred behind her. He shook his head, laughing slightly at the older witch.

"What ever will I do with her" he said to himself before disappearing into his own room, where he then preceded to flip through and old book, one he received many years ago.

* * *

"What about this?" Hermione said again, frantically running her hands down her skirt, trying desperately to press out any creases.

"What was wrong with the last one?" Fred said, sitting exhaustedly on the sofa, staring blankly at the crack in his white ceiling, pondering lightly on when he should fix that.

"Fred, please be serious" with a grunt, followed by a guilty sigh, Fred looked up. Hermione was stood awkwardly in her doorway, arms crossed nervously over her chest. She wore a knee length black dress with a sweetheart neckline the fitted perfectly to her soft curves beneath a beige cardigan. Her feet were sat snugly in a pair of nude, low heeled wedges and she had a gold chain around her throat. "Wow 'Mione" he said, sitting up slightly on the sofa so he could see her better.

Her face looked soft and young thanks to her gentle makeup, her hair was tamed into somewhat calmer chocolate ringlets.

"It's not right is it? Oh Merlin!" she exclaimed, landing inelegantly on the sofa next to Fred who smiled at his sister. "It shouldn't be this hard, should it?" she asked him, peeking out from beneath the arm she had thrown against her face.

"I'm still confused as to why you said yes" Fred said with a shrug "What happened to he's an 'arrogant, pompous, foul little ferret boy'" Fred said laughing at his failed attempt at Hermione's voice. "OW!" he shouted, rubbing his arm where Hermione had just punched him.

"Not funny, Fred" she said, pointing at him in the motherly way she did, so much like his own mother it was slightly scary.

"I'm only saying" he began, holding his hands up in defence to the death glare she received. "One day you hate him, the next day you're going on a date with him. What's changed?"

"He said he wants to make it up to me" she said, resting her elbows on her knees and staring blindly at the coffee table. "And I've decided to let him"

Nodding at her reason, Fred leant back against the sofa again. Hermione leant back too, instinctively falling against Fred's chest, breathing deeply as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"Where would I be without you, Freddie?" she asked and she could feel him tense at the old nickname. Fred had fallen in love only once, to a girl names Rose-marie Greengrass, a girl who had, unfortunately, perished in the battle of Hogwarts, a few months after her and Fred had become engaged. He'd never loved any one since then, he never tried to and he never wanted to. She held his heart and he didn't ant to take it away from her.

"On your date I'd imagine" he said with a chuckle. "What time is it anyway?" he asked, raising and eyebrow at her knowingly.

"Oh Merlin!" she exclaimed, leaping from the sofa before Fred could even suppress his laughter. She was flailing around wildly, grabbing al manner of things. Her bag, her wand, some makeup and-

"Hermione, what on earth is that?" Fred said incredulously, pointing at the strange object she was holding in her hand.

"What? This? Oh, it's a box of floss" she said shyly. "My mother used to tell me to hold onto it at all times."

"And that's dates included?" Fred asked with a smirk, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Fred, don't start now, please" she said, her hands clasped together as though in prayer. "I'm really nervous about this date, okay. I don't want to mess this up" she said pleadingly.

"You like him then?" Fred asked accusingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I'd best be off" she said briskly, closing her bag and grabbing her coat from beside the fireplace and draping it over her shoulders. "Don't want to keep Malfoy waiting" and with that she disappeared into the flickering emerald flames, shouting the name of a location Fred didn't quite catch above the roar of fire.

"Your brother and my sister" Fred said, staring once again at the ceiling, a soft, far gone smile across her face. "Who'd of thought it" He closed his eyes slowly, revelling in the peace and quiet of an empty house. Hermione on her date, Rose at her friends. And in that moment, with the image of perfect blue eyes in his mind, Fred could have sworn he felt the ghost of a hand touch his face, making him smile in a way he hadn't in years.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late" Hermione jumped at the sound. She had been stood outside of the leaky cauldron for about ten minutes now, and she'd been growing more and more anxious as the seconds rolled by. "But to be honest, I didn't think you were going to show up" Draco said emerging from the alley way next to the leaky cauldron.

"I thought the same about you." She said, allowing herself a slight smile as she glanced over his appearance. He wore a grey shirt; open at the top beneath a black blazer and black trousers. All in all, he looked handsome, casual yet smart at the same time, wearing what was no doubt expensive clothing. Hermione felt slightly inadequate beside him in her high-street clothing.

"I wouldn't have missed this" he said with a smirk, extending an arm towards her. "Shall we" and Hermione, feeling a lot like a teenager again, took hold of Draco's arm and let herself be led down the dimly illuminated streets of London. Where she was going, she didn't know, but she couldn't help the feeling that this was the start of another great adventure.

* * *

The restaurant was unlike any Hermione had ever seen before. It was right in the midst of muggle London, in a small three story building overlooking the Thames and the flickering lights of the city dashing around below. It was nothing short of astounding as to how Draco had managed to find and entirely Wizarding restaurant in the midst of muggle London, but right now, with a glass of incredibly expensive wine in her hand and an undoubtedly handsome mad sitting opposite her, Hermione didn't care to ask.

"So what do you do, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, taking a short sip of the wine, trying desperately to savour it so as not to gauge Draco into buying another bottle. It was one thing to go on a date with an old school friend/enemy; it was something else entirely to expect them to spend their fortune on you.

"I work with the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries" he said plainly, taking a sip of wine "An Unspeakable actually" he said, sounding bored. He leant over the table, leaning on his hands, gesturing for Hermione to lean closer, which she did. "Would you like to know what it is an unspeakable does?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked, jumping away so quickly her chair rocked back onto two of four legs, her face the picture of horror "You're forbidden to speak of it!" she said looking frantically from side to side, almost as though to ensure no one was over hearing their conversation.

Draco however was trying painfully to hold back his laughter, finally failing and letting himself chuckle into the other wise calm room.

"Hermione, I'm joking" he said, reaching a hand across the table towards her. She eyed him sceptically, watching as he wiped a hand across his face from laughter. "I'm a healer, actually" he said with a soft smile, one she had never seen grace his features, even when he was a boy in school with her. It was strange how one simple action changed your entire outlook on someone, yet here she was, Hermione Granger-Weasley, forgetting her traumatised past with one platinum haired man because he smiled.

"Who'd of thought" she said, trying to regain her composure slightly "Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, a Healer" she could see his nostalgic smirk from above the rim of her wineglass as she tried to hide a small smile herself.

"Tell me then, Hermione, what is it you do now? He asked, clasping his hands together on the table, his grey eyes looking intently into her brown ones. With a sudden wave of nervousness rushing through her, Hermione began tugging absently at the cuffs of her cardigan sleeves letting them cover most of her hands.

"Me? Well, I work at the Ministry as an Obliviator" she said shyly, almost as though she was ashamed.

"An Obliviator? Really?" Draco asked curiously, watching as she tried to look anywhere in the room aside from where he was.

"Well, I was very experienced in memory charms already, so I could skip the training" he could see the regret in her eyes, and he wanted more than anything to know what was lurking in those chocolaty deaths, something hidden and blocked. "I also work part time in the Muggles Relation's office, the Magical Law enforcement Office and The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures" she said casually, taking another shy sip of wine.

"So, you've really got your hands full especially with children to care for"

"Child" Hermione but in quickly, ceasing him from speaking "I only have Rose, unless you count Fred, but he's not what he used to be after Ros- never mind" she said, cutting herself off after seeing how Malfoy tensed at the mention of her name. "Still, I need the money, I can't expect Fred to look after me and Rose forever, one day he'll find someone" she said, idly, knowing full well she was lying.

"Will he though?" Draco said, clearly thinking the same as her, that Fred only had eyes for one girl, a girl who was currently six-foot under. Hermione sighed sadly, wishing that Fred could find happiness. "Trust me, I love Rose-marie, I know how hard it was for me to lose her, but for him? I wouldn't get your hopes up on him forgetting her, she was one in a million" he said with a nostalgic smile.

"I guess you're right" she said.

"By the way, what made you chose the name Rose?" Draco asked, sipping his wine a lot greedily than Hermione.

"Oh" she said, clearly surprised by the question. "Fred suggested it actually" Hermione said shyly "I guess she reminded her of Rose-marie in a way" Draco nodded, understanding the slight resemblance, the curly brown hair and the blue eyes, it's no doubt what Fred and Rose-marie's child would have looked like. "Plus Fred was by my side through the pregnancy, he's been more or less a dad to Rose, so it's only right he names her." she said sadly.

Truth is, after Ron's death, Hermione wanted nothing to do with the baby. She wanted to leave and never come back, the grief too much for her to handle. She'd even run away for a short while after Rose was born, leaving Fred to care for the little girl on his own. But maternal instinct won over, and after three weeks away living as a muggle, Hermione realised how alienated she was now from that world, returning to her daughter. After that Hermione became the perfect mum, her and Fred playing parents to the little girl. it wasn't until she was ten that Rose even realised Fred wasn't her father.

"Let's get to the point, shall we Hermione?" Draco said, his eyes suddenly guarded, void of any laughter or joking. He looked older like this, she thought, still handsome, but cold as well.

"The point?" she echoed, taking yet another sip of wine, only to find her voice too blacked to swallow.

"Yes, Hermione, the point. The reason I invited you here" he placed his glass down, once again resting his head atop his hands as he looked at her, a strange sort of expression flowing through his grey eyes. "I want to, most importantly, apologise for everything I ever put you through, every single curse, every insult, every time I ever called you a mud-" but he couldn't even say the word anymore, something that went far from unnoticed by Hermione. "The point is, I was horrible to you, I was arrogant and pompous and I don't deserve redemption or acceptance for the things I've done" Hermione watched, intrigued as Malfoy slowly became more and more deflated with every word he spoke, like he was a windup toy, running on it's last round, any moment he would just…stop. "And to top it off-"

Cutting him off by reaching across the table, covering his clasped hands with hers, Hermione spoke. "I accept your apology, Draco" she said with a caring smile, one he returned with even more fervour, like a tiny light of hope had suddenly lit inside of him. "What?" she asked, suddenly confused by the sudden interest he was taking by staring at her, the soft, almost sad smile on his face. "What's wrong?"

"You called me Draco" he said, still smiling across the table at her.

"Is that bad?" she said, dubious as to whether or not she had crossed the line. The emotions flashing through his grey eyes didn't look negative, on the contrary, he looked overjoyed, thrilled even, that she had spoken his first name.

"I never thought you'd call me that" he said with what Hermione could have sworn was a blushing smile. "It gives me a new sense of, well, hope I guess" he said, his eyes smiling more than his face was giving off.

"Sometimes hope is all you really need" she said, not even recoiling when he took both of her hands in his own, their eyes never leaving one another's.

And in that moment, it was as if all their petty arguments had been wiped out, all of their childhood rivalries forgotten, everything word, every conversations and everything else with them, from that day forth, would be brand new


End file.
